Remember Superman, the guy who was faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, etc? Remember in the movie when he was so devastated at the turn of events that he wanted to turn back time? There’s a debate about the comic book physics used to explain how he did it, but that wasn’t the point.

The fact that he wanted to stop time and try for a redo was all the point the movie needed. That defining moment summed up his life experience. He was always looking to save everyone but himself until he experienced that defining, soul-wrenching, heartbreak moment, and he became clear on what mattered most.

Last month was a strange month. Nearly nothing went according to plan. Well, not my plan, anyway. I forged through it, gleaning knowledge here and there and even sleeping through three days. As Herbie sings in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie (I’m feeling nostalgic), I put one foot in front of the other. I moved through each day, ready for the moment I was in but looking forward to the next.

I also felt that Superman moment when time felt like it was spinning backward, and that was okay because I wanted it to spin backward. I experienced a month of feeling ready but ready for what.

Depending on where you were in the United States last week, you experienced a total or partial, or perhaps not even noticeable, solar eclipse. You may have experienced the effects of its energy. For some of us, there was an obvious physical reaction with facial inflammation, tension, exhaustion, etc. Scientists report no such thing exists, but I trust that conclusion as much as comic book physics.

Then, for some, crickets. Yeah, not the winged insects that make a loud ruckus in the summer, but when they are utterly silent, like the birds were at the eclipse’s peak. Either way, whether we felt it or not, it was a defining moment.

The next day, friends and colleagues noted that they could sense something different. Everything looked the same, but the world didn’t feel the same. For me, the shift in energy was palpable. I’ve been supercharged all week and have accomplished as much in one week as I didn’t accomplish the whole month of March. It was as though a book being written was suddenly slammed shut, and a new one began, now with gilded edges and a new binding.

I look out the window at the billowing gusts of rain blowing across the back pasture through walls of fog, giving the same sense of uncertainty March did. But I have the comforting realization that underneath this canopy of rain, everything is as it should be. Perspective matters. Birds sing with periods of silence. Geese squawk in the puddle that is my backyard.  Whether we want to stay in place, turn back time, or move forward, life under the rain continues, but for how long for our species, depends on our decisions. This is our Superman moment.

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